Page 80 of Autumn on My Mind

Why aren’t Ari and Liv here when I need them?

“How’s Pumpkin Day going?” Dom says, and I tear my eyes away from the necklace.

“It’s been good,” I say, facing forward. I nod at the carving contest, relieved to have something else to think about. “Did you ever do this?”

“No,” he says, his voice musing. “But I think Emma might have won once when we were kids.”

I hum. “And what are our parents up to today?”

Dom leans back and folds his arms, huffing a frustrated laugh. “My dad works today, I assume, so he’s safe for the time being.”

“I went over to Nathan’s early this morning and Alvina was still asleep.” I pause, remembering the state of our previously shared room when I poked my head in. “She hasn’t said anything about me moving out, but she has her clothes laid out on the bed I was sleeping in, so she clearly knows I’m not there anymore.” Then I frown, turning to Dom.

He raises his eyebrows when he sees my expression and waits for me to speak.

“How did you get my car to your house last night?” I say. “It was in your driveway when I got up.”

“Oh,” he says. “I stole your keys.”

I snort at this, but he goes on.

“No, I’m serious,” he says. “I grabbed them last night. They were in the outside pocket of your duffle. I forgot to tell you, but I did. After the rain stopped I drove the truck over”—he nods down Main to Berk’s—“and left it in the parking lot. I drove your car back to my house and walked here this morning.” His eyes trail over the pleasant hubbub of the festival around us. “It’s not a bad walk.”

He’s right, but still.

“I’m not sure if I should thank you or scold you,” I say, unconvinced.

A smile twitches over his lips, and he grabs the bill of his hat, adjusting it mindlessly. “I’m open to either.”

I open my mouth to respond, but my phone rings, the tinny strain of “Monster Mash” by Bobby Pickett. I pull it out and look at the screen while Dom shakes his head and grins at the ringtone I downloaded this morning.

I frown, though, because it’s Alvina’s name that’s popped up. Alvina doesn’t call unless she needs something, so I answer quickly.

“Hi,” I say as a twinge of nervousness finds me. “What’s up?”

“A woman of class answers the phone more politely than that,” Alvina says, and my body relaxes at the disapproving note in her voice. If she’s immediately telling me what I’m doing wrong, she’s fine. In fact, she’s right where she wants to be.

“Sorry,” I say automatically—and I’m keenly aware of Dominic still sitting next to me now, of apologizing to my mother out of habit rather than need. “But what is it?”

She sniffs, a fussy little sound I hear even over the phone. “Daryl has informed me that there’s a potluck dinner tomorrow evening,” she says. “He thought it might be fun if we all attended together.”

“All of us?” I say, blinking in surprise and glancing over at Dom. “Like, our families?”

Dominic’s brows jump in question, and I hold up a finger to tell him to wait.

“Of course,” Alvina says. Then, her voice more uncertain than I’m used to, she goes on, “He feels very strongly about families. He says spending time together is part of a healthy relationship.” After a pause, she adds, “I suppose…I can see what he means.”

I genuinely have no words.

“Anyway,” my mother clips on, back to herself once more, “I’ll expect you at the church tomorrow evening. Wear something suitable for a gathering, please.”

“It’s a potluck,” I say blankly.

“Something suitable for a potluck, then,” she says, and I can picture her exact expression—dismissive, already moving on to other, more important things. “Goodbye, sweetheart.”

She hangs up without letting me speak, and I pull the phone away from my ear, staring at it. Then I turn to Dom.

“I think our parents have invited us to dinner.”